


Not Made of Stone

by turante



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turante/pseuds/turante
Summary: Mark might be married, but he's not made of stone.





	Not Made of Stone

Mark stumbled backwards into the room, Mycroft's clothes unbuttoned hurriedly by long swift fingers. Hot, demanding lips clashed against his, kissing him urgently, hard and fast. 

His jacket was on the floor in a matter of seconds, Mycroft's waistcoat flung open and left there for him to shrug off as soon as he had removed Benedict's jacket. Mark’s fingers lingered on the cuffs, to open the buttons, but Benedict needed more contact so he grabbed Mark’s shirt with both hands and slammed their bodies together as well as their mouths. It was only after they parted for breath that Mark managed to undo Ben’s cuffs and then his own.

Mark shrugged off the waistcoat as Ben unbuttoned Sherlock's purple shirt, staring into his eyes with unmasked desire. He licked those full, luscious lips, making it impossible for Mark to concentrate. "Let me help you," he purred in that low baritone of his, now filled with naughtiness and lust.

Mark bit his lip and nodded, letting the younger man defeat the buttons of both shirts while he took care of the simpler – but no less crucial – task of unbuckling their belts. He then was unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, with Ben climbing on him to sit straddling his legs, bribing him into silence with more hungry kisses.

Mark’s hands found the tangled mess of curls that was Ben's hair, and he grabbed a handful, pulling slightly and making the other actor relinquish the control over the kiss, allowing him to set the pace.

Benedict pulled Mark’s shirt out of his trousers and took advantage of the moment to get it off. His hands stroked the skin he had just exposed, trailing his nails on the freckles he saw. Mark heard Ben giggle before he was pushed flat on the mattress.

Mark heard two muffled thumps: Ben’s shoes hitting the carpet as he kicked them off; Mark did the same, with surprising ease, considering how distracted he was by the other man’s tongue down his throat.

With some creative wriggling and wrestling Benedict managed to peel the trousers off Mark’s legs without having to move off him. Then he looked at his long and now almost naked legs, studying them for a second. "Sock garters? Who the hell wears sock garters anymore?" Ben asked him, and Mark shrugged.

"Mycroft, I reckon. Have you seen the rest of his clothes?"

The younger man grinned at him. "Yes, and they look better on the floor." 

Mark snickered; he sat up and unclasped the sock garters removing his socks at the same time.

“Undress,” he demanded, arching an eyebrow in a good Mycroft impression. (It definitely wasn’t the clothes making the man.) 

Benedict rolled his eyes but stepped out of his trousers nonetheless. "You don't want to play that game..." Benedict joked, returning to the bed to devour Mark’s lips again. "You should know how Sherlock is..." but they abandoned the topic, preferring to pass the time by exploring each other's bodies.

Mark's hands traced the pale chest in front of him, then he turned to pin him down, blocking his wrists above his head with one hand, using his weight to his advantage (the fact that Ben didn't struggle also helped). He started kissing Ben's jaw, mouthing his skin, grazing it gently with his teeth. Then he moved down his neck, tasting, savouring, thoroughly enjoying every second and treasuring each moan and sigh that escaped from the other's lips.

Ben arched under him, wordlessly begging for more. 

One of Mark’s hands caressed Ben’s thigh, thumb stroking and tickling the inside. He stopped sucking on a nipple to look up. Ben was tormenting his luscious lips with his teeth, and it really was a sight! "God, Mark..." he moaned and Mark bit playfully on the other nipple. 

“Just Mark is fine," he said, and Ben kicked him, aiming for the shin (but missing). 

"Touch me and I _might_ be willing to worship you in return." Mark smirked, he was very confident in his own capability to make Ben lose all coherence – as lovely as it was to hear his voice, making him speechless was better. He pressed his thumb a bit harder into his thigh and then slowly inched his hand higher, while moving his mouth lower at the same time. 

He licked his way along Benedict’s chest, following the thin trail of reddish hairs down to the waistband of the most superfluous pair of underwear he’d ever had the displeasure of coming across. 

He felt Ben’s breath quicken when he started stroking his side with one hand, and hitch as he hooked the thumb of the other in the waistband of the man’s boxer shorts, pulling them down to expose his glorious erection.

Mark spared a thought about the carpet not matching the curtains, smiled at his private joke and then diverted his attention to the cock in front of him instead. First he licked it, just the barest flick of his tongue on the tip, to feel the taste and see Ben’s reaction. Ben bucked his hips, arching up against Mark’s tongue, but then he drew back, rolling the taste in his mouth. It was as he’d always imagined: salty, musky, a bit tangy and just perfect.

Ben propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at his lover, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated. He looked like a wet dream come to life. “Well?” his low voice demanded. 

Mark smiled at him, licked his lips and closed a hand around him. “Say ‘please’?” he joked, starting to stroke him while he kissed his thigh.

“Hm, please, Mark,” he asked quite flatly, grasping a handful of his hair and nudging him upwards, encouraging him to start using his mouth on him again. 

Mark playfully bit the inside of Ben’s thigh, spreading his legs a bit more so that he could rest comfortably between them. He moved his hand slowly up and down, coaxing a soft moan from Ben’s lips.

“I should have asked you to undress at the audition,” he mused, and Ben’s mouth twisted in a naughty grin.

“It would have been harassment,” he replied, “but I would have done it anyway.” 

Mark started to trail his tongue along the younger man’s gorgeous erection, licking him slowly and carefully from base to tip, his efforts rewarded with a gasp.

“I wouldn’t have sued, I swear,” Ben panted when he finally closed his mouth on him. “Most definitely not... especially if you had done this. Oh God,” he sighed, caressing his scalp with those long fingers as Mark sucked him, guessing the best way to render him incoherent with lust (and honestly, that was an activity he sincerely enjoyed).

Ben was gorgeous, all of him – and Mark got to see a lot of him like this – his cock was something of a masterpiece, beautiful, perfect. It was impossible to fit in his mouth, but to make up for it, he closed his hand around the base, moving it slowly up and down in time with his lips. He sucked a bit harder and Ben murmured some encouragement, his hand caressing Mark’s scalp, ghosting over it in a controlled stroke. Benedict did his best not to give in to the temptation to thrust up and gag him, even if it required a deliberate effort on his part. He didn't want to appear greedy, _unfortunately_ , thought Mark, because he wouldn't have minded. 

So Mark grazed his teeth along Ben’s length, and he shuddered, almost as if he hadn't had a decent blowjob in ages. Mark felt it was his responsibility to remedy the situation, and he enthusiastically applied himself to the task. 

When the most intelligent thing Ben could muster was “hngh,” Mark stopped and pulled away, mildly proud, and started kissing the other thigh, which he had neglected earlier. Benedict moaned in frustration, and Mark looked at him: all flushed, horny and absolutely shaggable. 

“Christ, Mark,” Benedict begged, meeting his gaze with absolute need, “just... fuck me senseless,” he breathed, not daring to ask louder, confident that Mark had heard anyway, and understood perfectly. 

“Hm, gladly,” he smiled and climbed up his chest, and Ben put a hand behind his neck and dragged him forward to capture his lips again for another possessive kiss.

Once he got Mark where he wanted him – on top – Ben reached down with his other hand, closing it around Mark’s cock and starting to stroke. Mark moaned and arched into Ben’s fist, realising only then how touch-starved he had been. 

Mark moved his hips into Ben's hand, slowly, biting his lips and berating himself because he hadn't thought of this before.

Ben took his right hand and brought it to his mouth. "Don't you have a husband, somewhere?" he asked, devilishly starting to lick one long finger as he said so. He put it in his mouth and sucked, making Mark feel like a teenager again. 

"Hm, yes." And Ben naturally chose that moment to run his tongue along the ring he wore, turning it around his finger. "But I'm not made of stone," he justified himself.

Ben's lips quirked up in a mischievous grin. "Allow me to disagree," he said, adjusting his grip and going back to using his mouth to fellate his fingers.

His alarm rang, and Mark turned to hit the snooze button. He was painfully aroused and felt a bit guilty thanks to the vividness of the dream, but he was also alone in bed like he had been the night before. 

The funny thing was, before falling asleep, he had been fantasizing about Rupert.


End file.
